The Pale Riders
by Drakenn
Summary: What if one of the two lost Legions wasn't lost and instead had some impact on the Heresy and times of the Imperium...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – The original idea for the story appeared in December 2017, then I wrote 300k words and scrapped because of some things I disliked and issues with balance. Now here I come again with a thing that might be either very interesting and long or very short and dull.**

 **With that intro out of the way. This story will focus on the Eleventh Legion and their actions prior, during and maybe after the Heresy. Their search for the Primarch and their changes and evolution without him and then under his leadership.**

 **o-0-o**

 **(Somewhere close to the galactic core, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A sudden downpour followed it. The water turning the already soggy ground into deadly, sticky and treacherous mud. Yet the Space Marines of the 11th Legion didn't pay to it any attention.

The water washing over their unpainted, steel gray armors. The only visible feature of them were their red visors and Roman number eleven stenciled on their pauldrons. They stood there for hours, unmoving and simply watching the city hidden by the darkness.

What for a human was darkness, for their augmented bodies and optical systems of their armors was merely dim. The city in the valley rejected the generous offer of peacefully joining the Imperium and the Eleventh Legion with its auxilia forces was called to bring the city into the fold.

"It is time," one of them said and glanced backwards. Towards positions where artillery batteries were entrenched. There were dozens of Basilisks and the less mobile, but still potent Earthshaker cannons. "Tell the artillery to begin, Theseus."

Now named Theseus smashed his hand against the chestplate of his armor and nodded. "As you wish, Legate."

He walked through the mud, servomotors of his armor struggling with the sucking power of the mud, and as he approached the artillery he was almost immediately spotted by the sentries guarding it. Their lasguns pointed in his direction, but once it was clear he was one of them, the guns lowered and he passed between them.

"You may begin when ready," he said towards a human Colonel in charge of the artillery units.

The man nodded him and then started to bark out orders. Theseus barely managed to turn his head towards the city when the first gun fired. Six hundred pieces was usually an overkill, for such an unremarkable planet, but this conflict was all but usual.

Cities that should have surrendered to a company of his brethren, resisted assaults of as much as a battalion and oft they needed to clear every single building to be sure there were no ambushes waiting for the garrison. This kind of grinding and meticulous war was not Eleventh's forte, they excelled when allowed to roam free on the plains and grasslands. Their tank formations slipping through the chinks in enemy's defense and hitting command centers before anybody was aware they were there.

Theseus unlocked the seals of his helmet and breathed in the air. The strong stench of the propellant used by the Earthshaker rounds felt good to him. It should be the last battle of this campaign, the last moment of his stay on this forsaken ball of mud before being able to return to the rest of the fleet and renew the search for their still lost Primarch.

He paused and banished those thoughts out of his mind. His hand clenched on the hilt of his power sword and then he smiled when he sensed the barely contained excitement and frustration of his company. The hundred and fifty of his brethren given to his to command, all of them as irritated by this campaign as he.

The low boom sounded on the hill several hundred meters away from him and he bared his teeth in a predatory smile. Medusas and Bombards finally joined. They were the main guns of the siege corps of the auxilia. They were much easier and cheaper to make, but had two flaws shorter range and extremely slow rate of fire. On the other hand there was almost nothing that could survive repeated hits from them.

Theseus felt movement behind him and when he turned he faced one of the Scouts assigned to his command. The newest members of the Legion, neither their augmentation nor training finished. They were untested and unproven, yet it was their duty to provide him and the Legate with the intelligence and to spot traps as the formations of the Eleventh traveled.

"Yes, Cadet Rollo?" Theseus asked. "What do you want?"

"Pardon me, Tribune," the Cadet said and swallowed. "But why do we wait for the barrage to pummel the city to dust. Wouldn't it be more glorious if we attacked now?"

Theseus laughed at this and then shook his head. "The glory-seeking you all are taught during your training is good," he slowly said and looked into the eyes of the youth. "But is foolish in the way you think about it. Yes, the Legate Pollux can order the assault, but at what cost? We already lost over two hundred brothers and several dozen thousand auxilia. Just getting to this city."

The youth's eyes shone with challenge. "We can avenge our fallen…"

Theseus' hand crashed against youth's cheek and sent him into the mud. "If you wish to advance up the ranks, learn how to think first. We can't afford more losses than necessary and there is nothing glorious dying on this ball of mud."

He gave the youth a look and then walked towards the pair of Centurions that were de facto in command of his company. Both of them were from the first intake of recruits and both of them distinguished themselves during the conquest of Sol.

"Prepare the men," Theseus said as they approached him. "We will probably attack once the dawn comes." He grimaced and then glanced at the city. "Close quarters and ugly, that is a curse of a battle."

"What about our tanks?"

"We don't have any working," Theseus said and spat on the ground. "Last Predator was blown to shreds in an ambush. At least we have the Vindicators and Land Raiders."

"That will be an inconvenience," the older Centurion said with a wince. "Javelins and Land Speeders?"

"Three Javelins out of the sixty the whole Battalion has are able to take off. As for Speeders, out of four our Cadets, one is being repaired," Theseus growled and shook his head, regaining his composure. "In short, outside of the Land Raiders, Rhinos and Vindicators the rest is either a burned out husk or being repaired."

"How is it that they manage to incur such losses on our units?"

Theseus looked at the Centurion, his gaze level and calm. "Ambushes, luck and skill. And our scouts or rather their lack of abilities of spotting traps waiting for us."

"The training of cadets is somewhat lacking."

Theseus pulled the helmet of his head and attached it to the belt of his armor. His head was clean-shaven and a tattoo of an aquila was visible on his forehead. "Yes," he said and his silver eyes, an effect of a quirk of the gene-seed, focused on the Centurions. "Iason, I want you to gather the newest recruits and push them a bit harder."

"A bit harder?" Now named Centurion said as he reached for his plasma pistol and started to disassemble the weapon and then clean it.

"Enough to make the progress visible in say next four weeks," Theseus said and glanced at the second. "Pollux, organize some scouting elements from the normal Marines. They will hate it, but I want some better scouts."

They both nodded and Theseus stalked away. Towards the command post of the Legate. The Legate was in charge of the campaigns on this whole forsaken planet and in the system. A task Theseus was grateful wasn't his.

"Orders passed?"

"Aye," Theseus said and then glanced towards the city. It's form lit by dozens of fires from the falling shells. "They should have surrendered long ago. We have seven companies of the Legion and several dozen Regiments ready to attack this town."

"They're like our tribes from Terra," the Legate said and then looked at Theseus. "They didn't surrender until the last stronghold was assaulted. I think they also will surrender once we enter the city."

Theseus mulled over those words. His mind returning to his childhood on the Cradle of Humanity, Terra, world so irradiated and devastated that survival was a challenge. The plains were filled with mutated horrors, the water was worth more than gold and food was scarce. Even the Emperor was unable to change it, at least not outright.

When he was found by the servants of the Master of Mankind and taken for the Eleventh Legion training the first effects were visible and when the Great Crusade took off years after that the world was more habitable. Yet, still deadly.

This planet, which was designed 113-A4-11 was a strange contrast to Terra. Lust forests, plenty of water and abundance of food and creatures. Most of which with a plethora of claws, fangs and teeth, and poisonous. However outside of the predators the world was a perfect one for humans to settle. Gravity slightly above the 1G of Terra, veins of ores and minerals almost under the surface and no toxic gases in the atmosphere.

"There is nothing that induces such ferocity," the Legate said quietly, as if reading Theseus thoughts. "Yet they fight to the bitter end and have courage and are fairly advanced. Magos Kane, a distant relative of Zagreus Kane, told me the discoveries made upon this world should increase effectivity of our tanks by about ten to twenty percents."

"Is there a chance nobody learns about those advancements? We are one of the smaller Legions and one that added not many worlds to the Imperium. The Primarch might be disappointed when we find him."

"That's up to the Legion Master and the Council."

At this Theseus flinched, the Council was a gathering of all of the Legates and other senior commanders watched over by the Legion Master. When it came to interactions with the rest of the Imperium and other Legions there was a deep split in it. A not so small fraction was of the opinion that what Legion acquired was its and only the Emperor could tell them to give it to someone else. While the majority was less restrained and wasn't against sharing the tech, but only under certain conditions.

"That will be a long discussion and… a loud one," Theseus commented and snorted. "Assuming it won't end with broken bones and blood spilled."

"Quite so," the Legate said and then looked at the sky. "We can only hope we find our gene-sire soon. The Emperor knows that we need him."

Theseus fell silent and looked back towards the dugouts of the artillery. Dozens of heavy guns, around each scores of servitors and humans toiling as they loaded the Basilisks and the Earthshakers. The endless chorus of guns slowly preparing the city for the assault.

o-0-o

 **A/N – If you know what's the main tool of blitzkrieg and then look at AirLand battle you get a good idea of what to expect. And the Space Marines are already mobile and have access to gear that makes this concept even nastier…**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – And here is part two. The Primarch makes an appearance, but he is still without his Legion, while they finish their campaign.**

 **o-0-o**

 **(Somewhere close to the galactic core, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

Theseus moved through the no man's land. Servomotors of his armor fighting against the sticky, ever-present mud. The ground was already soaken in blood and water. The pouring rain turned the mud into a deadly trap for the careless.

He looked at the city walls, breached in few places by the artillery during one of its previous barrages. Since then however it was filled back by hastily thrown sandbags and barricades. Perhaps making it even more dangerous than the monolithic form of the ferrocrete wall.

Between the uneven edges of the barricade a pair of heavy stubbers and a grenade launcher were nestled. The moment the first Marines of the company were seen the three sang a song of destruction. Their position fully revealed to the attackers and sending death their way.

Theseus felt rounds impact against the pauldrons of his armor and chip away the ablative plating. He ignored it and moved forward. A grenade exploded directly in front of him, a fountain of soil thrown into the air in its wake.

"Heavy support, take them out," Theseus muttered into the vox, looking at the barricade.

Moments later five rocket launchers were fired and the heavy stubbers and the lone grenade launcher disappeared in a ball of shredding metal shrapnel and explosives.

Theseus stopped on a low hill, by a lonely tree that somehow avoided getting destroyed by the artillery barrages and glanced back towards the lines of the Eleventh. Three companies of the Marines were swiftly moving, their Vindicators slightly behind and beyond all of that a swarming mass of infantry.

He let the first, dispersed line of his company pass him and then Theseus moved. His hands clenched on his power sword and a plasma pistol. The closer they moved to the wall, the stronger the fire was, but most of it weak and disorganized and short-lived with the Vindicators and heavy support teams taking them out.

"Attack!" Theseus roared as the last thirty meters came. He broke into jog, the eight members of his honor guard around him. Their heavy boarding shields ready to protect him from any threat. They scaled the walls and were upon the humans.

Theseus' sword's power field flickered alive with an ethereal glow.

In a fluid move he blocked a strike at his head and sliced through the axe. Then he pushed the blade forward and severed his opponent's head from shoulders. With that done he looked around and saw that his guard and the other Marines that joined them secured the wall.

"Split," he said and then looked at the city. "Third of you go down and into the city. The rest divide into two units and clean the wall." He shot a mace wielding giant of a man that appeared out of nowhere and then turned to look at his Centurions. "If they surrender, you stop fighting, immediately."

"Tribune?" One of them asked.

"That's an order from the Legate," Theseus said. "I'll lead the advance into the city. You handle the walls."

He jumped down, the armor taking the brunt of the impact.

The city was well-organized with wide streets lined with trees and flanked by dozens of buildings. Most of them looked like workshops, a thing that Theseus noted with joy as it meant that the city would be able to contribute to the wider Imperium almost instantly.

Then an animalistic growl left his throat.

Off, in the distance there were spires of something that could be only a place of worship. A thing that had no place in the atheistic Imperium of Man, everything was driven by logic and reason and science and there was no place for belief in religion.

With fury boiling in his chest he moved forward. The power sword in his hand scything down the militia that threw themselves at him. Their strikes harmlessly raked against his armor while his weapon reddened itself in their blood. Clothes and simple armor providing no resistance for the energy.

o-0-o

The Legate watched the battle unfold with his gaze calculating the movements of troops and the progress of battle. He was not like the commanders of the other Legions, they led from the front and risked their lives. A thing he and other higher ranking members of the Eleventh found foolhardy and unnecessary.

They all could fight and often led their troops, but rarely they spearheaded the assault. For that they had other officers and champions, the best warriors in the whole Legion. Life of them was expendable, or at least more expendable than that of a Legate.

Each of them was from the earliest group of recruits and each of them was prepared for command from the very start of their training and indoctrination. There were only thirty of them, scattered across the whole galaxy and overseeing various campaigns of the Legion.

Life of each guarded by eighty warriors strong Hetairoi guard. Hand-picked warriors, some of them brash and arrogant youths, some of them veterans. However the purpose of the Hetairoi was not only to die in the defense of their charge, the more important one was to offer the advice and counsel when needed.

"My Lord, Orion," one of them said and the Legate glanced at the mention of his given name. "Tribute Theseus breached the walls and is pushing forward. He sent a request for additional forces to be redirected to his position."

Orion looked at the city and then blinked, sending a command to his armor to display him the map made by the ships in orbit. He studied it for few sparse seconds, then looked at the city his decision made.

"Have two companies join the assault."

That done Orion focused once more on the battle and wider conflict. With the world secured the whole system and in fact the subsector would be all brought into compliance. A thing that meant that the Legion would soon be deployed elsewhere, perhaps to aid one of the other formations or perhaps to wage another war on its own.

Or perhaps they would be allowed to return to their hunt for the Primarch. Swift and heavily armed destroyers and cruisers hunting far ahead of the main fleets of the Crusade. Their sole purpose finding the gene-sire of the Legion.

A thunder roared overhead as another wave of the rain came from the skies, pulling Orion out of his musings and focusing his mind on the battle.

o-0-o

 **(Terra, Segmentum Solar, unknown date, before the eight century M30)**

Twenty gestation pods filled a chamber carved from bedrock of the Himalayan Mountains. Inside of each a single being, not a human, yet still human, an effect of gene-forging and witchcraft never before seen by the galaxy.

Each of them a demigod, a perfect warrior, a genius scientist, a capable administrator and a brilliant diplomat, a perfect ruler for any realm.

The pods were tended by dozens of scientists and scholars, none of them aware of the true scope of the project. The survival of it too important for them to be aware of what was growing inside of the pods.

Between them stalked the golden warriors, their hands on their weapons as they guarded the creations of their master. Creations that were to be his generals, commanders, advisors and rulers of his new realm.

A patrol left the chamber, leaving inside only the savants ensuring that the content of the pods developed without any problems and everything was perfect. A gust of wind passed through the room and then energy flooded it. Klaxons started to howl, but after a second their noise was silenced by something.

Then it was gone. The pods gone with it.

o-0-o

 **(Unknown planet, unknown date, the eight century M30)**

The worlds of mankind are varied, some are little more than a barren rock with no atmosphere, while some are wholly wrapped in steel and iron. The electricity and fuel being the blood, while steel was the skin and adamantium the bones.

Those were the domains of Mechanicum, Tech-Priests, their sole purpose search for knowledge and reveration of the Omnissiah. The most important of their worlds were known as forge-worlds, massive factories, laboratories and shipyards covering the whole planet.

Ptolemy stepped onto the balcony of the tallest tower of the forge known as Magma Primaris on the planet Ares. He was its Fabricator-General for the past decade, yet his body was void of any augmentation bar one. It gave him a second pair of arms ended with dexterous fingers that could be replaced in times of need with weapons. His body was too perfect to be destroyed by crude attempts to upgrade and improve it.

He looked out onto his forge, the biggest one on the planet and since the last year the capital as well. His campaign to conquer the world was swift, brutal and meticulously planned. None of the other Fabricators-Generals lost their heads, but all of them were forced to bow to him.

He smiled and then looked at the sky, in the orbit were several dozen spaceships slowly preparing to take to stars and add new forges into the empire and to feed the furnaces of Ares. He also wanted to find his creator, the man that made him a perfect specimen of humanity and an example of what his species should be.

Even now in the forges below production of warmachines and soldiers happened. From relatively simple and mass-produced Skitarii, through cohorts of heavily armed, power armored Thallax to the massive god-machines, the Titans.

Ptolemy more sensed than felt something move behind him and smiled, Archmagos Exploratory Belisarius arrived ahead of the schedule. "Yes, Magos?"

"The fleet should be ready to in a month time to begin exploration," the Magos said and Ptolemy nodded.

"Very well, when the day comes, you will be leading the first wave."

The Magos bowed and left without any words. Letting Ptolemy return to pondering the state of his forge-world. The amount of Skitarii was steadily growing and the Thallax cohorts were busy cleaning the wastelands off the mutated beasts. While the Knights and Titans clashed on the irradiated deserts, their titanic mock duels changing the landscape and shaking the planet to the very core.

Some Magii saw his orders to have the Titans duel each other as blasphemy, but their opinions didn't carry enough clout to make him change it. Also, after the first duel the princeps of Titans supported the decision, finally making those Magii relent and give up on their attempts to undermine Ptolemy's position.

As the second sun appeared over the horizon, it's light making the temperature go up by several degrees Ptolemy hid back into the tower. The door slid shut silently behind him and donning his robe of Fabricator-General, heavy piece of yellow and red robe lined with circuitry and plating design to take and soften the strength of blows, he descended into the darkness and towards the halls where production happened.

As he approached massive doors of the principal forge complex a pair of Castellax battle-automata moved, their weapons coming alive as they detected motion. They were one of the most powerful battle-automata that were able to fit in the tight corridors and thus made for the perfect guardians of any forge.

Ptolemy knew that he could tear them apart with his bare hands and without the use of his augments, but he also knew it would be a very bad idea. The Maulter Bolt Cannons and the bolters they carried at such a short range were a deadly weapon. Even something like him, with the dozens of redundancies built into his organism, had issues with its neck blasted away.

The Castellax moved aside and the gate opened. A wave of hot exhausts rushed out and only the glow of molten metal was all Ptolemy saw for a brief second. Then his eyes adjusted and he saw thousands of menials and servitors toil under the watchful gaze of overseeing Tech-Priests.

"Fabricator-General," a nearby Tech-Priests said in reveration.

Ptolemy nodded at this and stepped onto the gang plank running around the hall. He gazed down with a frown. The smelting and casting of adamantium could be a difficult and a very dangerous process. Not only the metal was hot, the fumes created from it mixing with the air were highly toxic and an unprotected human didn't last long.

Yet the sight of the heavy machinery and the metal forced to obey the will of mankind had something sacred to it. Something that made Ptolemy relax and focus on his tasks, a thing he enjoyed immensely, it helped him plan his campaigns and made ideas for new technologies or improvements of the existing ones appear in his mind.

o-0-o

 **(Somewhere close to the galactic core, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

Demolisher Cannon was a crude, yet effective weapon that found its use in the Legiones Astartes as the main gun of their Vindicator Siege Tank. Its short range normally a problem, here was the advantage and the heavy shells fired by it often were the most potent solution to gates and walls blocking the path of an assault.

The gate of the city stormed by the Marines under command of Tribune Theseus miraculously survived the first, but after the second it burst into splinters and a new wave of Marines poured in. Some of them were on foot, but most rode on various bikes and jetbikes and was armed with a plethora of close combat weaponry.

They brushed aside the barricades right behind the gates and then with a howl of their engines the hunt started. Every defender careless enough to leave an opening found themselves with parts of their bodies torn out by the chain weapons or simply sliced away by the power field of the more potent ones.

It was also the tipping point, the one where the defenders finally broke and surrendered themselves. They were tough, stubborn people that knew hardships and always strove to overcame them, but even them had limits and they saw no point in more bloodshed.

They lost far too men sons and daughters to the senseless slaughter, hoping that the Imperium would give up after their initial show of ferocity. But it didn't and surrender now, on honorable terms was better than the wholesome slaughter and destruction of the cities and the culture.

o-0-o

Theseus entered the building that must have served in the past as a city hall and then was turned into a command point. As he looked at the walls he could see the scars of the recent battle. The chipped away stone, the broken windows, a burned out wreck in one corner.

He stopped in the middle of the empty space and pulled the helmet of his face, his bodyguards moving into a circle around him. Their boarding shields raised and ready to stop any fire coming his way. "Lower them," he muttered. "They surrendered," he added, looking pointedly at the old man in a golden circlet on his head and dressed in a stained purple robe.

"We did, tribune," the man said, then he pulled his sword out of the scabbard and handed hilt fist.

Theseus took the blade and looked at it. It was a practical weapon, the hilt simple and providing ample space for the hand of the user. The only decorative aspect was thunderbolt visible on the pommel.

"A fine blade," Theseus said solemnly. "One that fought for a misguided cause, yet now turned to light." With it in his gauntlet looked at the man. "Do you swear fealty to the Throne of Terra and the Emperor of Mankind?"

"I, Issac Isaurian, swear fealty to the Emperor and the Imperium," the man said and then looked at Theseus, challenge visible in his eyes. "What are your demands, warrior?"

Theseus laughed and looked at Issac. "None, however if you wish, we won't mind some recruits. The battles with you cost us dearly and your people would fit the Legion well.

Issac shrugged and looked at the men around him. "Seek whoever you want, as long as they agree, I won't make any troubles."

o-0-o

Several hours later Theseus stood on the bridge of the _Talon_ , a massive Retribution-class battleship that served as the flagship of the Battalion and of the whole campaign.

"You did good," Orion said and Theseus looked at his superior. "The surrender, you did as gently for them as you could and the tithe of recruits is a good way to bind them to the Imperium. A risky one, but I think that they prefer this than us staying longer on the world."

Theseus nodded, his expression sullen, eyes focused on the distant stars. "They are defeated, but not broken. Tested and tempered in the cauldron of war," he said and then shook his head, looking at the Legate. "The thirty we collected will be a fine addition to the Legion."

The Legate stood by his side, his gaze focused on the planet below.

"Aye, they will," he finally spoke and turned to face Theseus. "There are new orders. Our long range augur arrays picked up something strange deeper into the core. The Warmaster gave us and another Battalion to check those anomalies."

"When do we depart?" Theseus asked and grimaced. "The equipment is battered, a lot of it is beyond repair and we expended a lot of munition."

"In three hours. In a week we will meet with the fleet of Mechanicum and they will let us resupply."

o-0-o

 **(Unknown planet, unknown date, the eight century M30)**

Ptolemy looked at the gathering of Fabricators-Generals of Ares and their most senior Magii, as well as leaders of the Titan Legions and rulers of the noble houses. The biggest amphitheater of the Magma Primus was filled to the brim. Some of the most junior priests forced to stand as their leaders took seats on the steel benches.

Several long moments passed in total and complete silence. All of the communication done through noosphere links all the priests and other adepts of Mechanicum shared. The data bursts carrying much more emotions and uncertainty than they normally did. The cold logic of the machines, replaced by the agitation of flesh.

Feeling that the atmosphere reached critical point Ptolemy rose from his throne. His form garbed in a shining white and red armor, his mechanical limbs carrying heavy bolters and chainblades. Ready to attack anybody he wanted dead. His robe fluttered in the faint air circulation, the heavy fabric and armor unmovable.

"The forges of Ares serve now a single purpose," he said, stepping onto a raised dais. "We no longer murder our neighbors in senseless war. No, now we work together to once again be as mighty and powerful forge-world as we used to. The divisions between Magma and Eris, Eris and Enyo, matter not.

"What matters is that once again we seek to further development of new technology and pursue the knowledge. The knowledge we once had, but lost. Lost because we turned upon one another instead of preserving our combined lore, we destroyed it in war. Libraries burned under the treads of tanks, scientists, scholars and savants forced away from their research."

The words were harsh, far harsher than many would have dared. Yet Ptolemy saw that they reached their intended goals and that those people understood every single one of them. Perfect, he thought.

"In a week, first spaceships will leave our home system," he said and the crowd moved. Their attention focused on him. "Their target? Stars closest to ours. They will survey those systems, establish communication with sufficiently developed human colonies and subdue those less. They will purge and kill the xeno. Preparing the worlds for colonization.

"Once that's done we will set the course for Sol and seek Mars, the most holy of our forge-worlds."

Ptolemy allowed himself a small smile. He knew that the Imperium was out there and that it was one made by his creator. Other Fabricators-Generals most likely had the same knowledge, but nobody wanted to share it. A thing that suited his plans almost perfectly as his position was safer that way.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Another chapter, some more, including the future flagship is revealed.**

 **o-0-o**

 **(Anvillus system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

Cruisers of the Mechanicum were things of wonder and might. Technologies long thought lost used in their construction, exotic alloys, hideously expensive to manufacture used to cover their hulls in impenetrable armor. Their weapons could reduce much larger ships into burning husks of broken decks and ripped apart sections of the hull. Weapons normally treated with respect for their power were commonplace and much more powerful variants were oft employed.

They weren't beautiful, as no such thing mattered to the Magii in charge of designing and building them. What mattered was efficiency and pleasing the Machine God, once the design fulfilled both, it was good enough.

Belisarius watched the cold vastness of space from his place on the command throne of his cruiser _Ferrum_. It was a powerful vessel and one constructed according to the patterns of old. It was a good ship, a powerful ship, more suited for a Magos Dominus. Alas it served him, Archmagos Explorator.

Klaxons blarred and the noosphere filled with sudden rush of activity. Belisarius' augmented, cybernetic eyes moved towards the master hololith display and a silent curse escaped his throat. A trio of ork vessels was moving from behind a planet. Their engines burned brightly as they accelerated.

"Move us to the extreme range and target the lead ship," Belisarius said, his head covered by his white and red hood that hid much of his extensive augments. Most of them was subtle and hard to notice, yet extremely advanced and powerful. "Do not allow them to get close to us."

The Tech-Priests manning the bridge moved to carry out his orders, dozens of thralls and servitors performing simpler tasks while their masters focused on the more esoteric and mysterious ones. Belisarius' gaze for a second fell on the pits filled with them before once more focusing on the vessels the orks called kroozers.

There was no pattern to them, no logic nor any set design. Each a ragtag mountain of metal and other materials welded and hammer to shape. Some were salvaged wrecks found in space, some were constructed by the orks. On their own a single kroozer would be reduced to dust by _Ferrum_ , but a pack of three was a different matter.

"Lances firing in five minutes," Magos Dominus intoned, his voice cold and emotionless. "Targeting the engine coils of the lead ship."

Belisarius' filed that away and focused on the blueprint of _Ferrum_ displayed on his retinal displays. It was over five kilometers long ship with a blunted prow and covered in thick, layered adamantium plating. The dozen of the void shields were more than a challenge for most of its opponents and its armament wasn't lacking.

Batteries of macrocannons, magma cannons and many more exotic weapons filled most of the decks and an array of lance batteries was installed in the prow. With several further along the spine, making it more heavily armed than its size suggested. Yet that was the way of the Mechanicum.

"Firing lances," Magos Dominus intoned and crimson beams of energy sliced across the void.

Belisarius watched them with a cold, indifferent gaze, his mind long ago finished with calculating the results of the salvo. It would all hit and the rest was dependant on what was below the skin of the kroozer.

"Multiple secondary explosions, ork kroozer losing speed and venting atmosphere."

Belisarius frowned at this and then looked at the hololith map of the system, the presence of the massive asteroid belt so close to their flank passed unseen by him until now. Then he remembered what was the specialty of the crude orks.

"Steer us clear of the asteroids," he barked. "Prepare for boarding attempts."

The Thallax, the Skitarii and the battle-automata stationed aboard the ship became active. This single command waking them from their slumber and activating their battle protocols. They were perfect soldiers, relentless, never ceasing, deadly, precise and emotionless. Their weapons were capable of stopping even the toughest and most brutish enemy, their advance cold, slow, but unstoppable and always grinding forward.

"Dozens of new contacts!" one of thralls shouted. "All of them on impact course. Impact in five standard minutes."

Belisarius nodded to himself and then looked at the six Praetorians standing at the only door leading onto the bridge. They were a strange breed of Skitarii, more powerful and more efficient than an average one, yet given much more autonomy of actions when fulfilling their only duty, protection of their liege.

They were armed with volkite culverins and power axes, ready to stop anything daring to lay hand on their liege. The only way to get to Belisarius was through them and their bodies, a feat no ork should achieve.

o-0-o

For once Orion smiled, his features brightened by a genuine smile. Whole strength of his assigned Battalions was at his disposal. Ten thousand battle-brothers and over three dozens of heavy cruisers and battleship. A force with which he could crack open any planet and the task he was given was more glorious than forcing another world into compliance.

The orks plagued this sector of space and it fallen upon his force to purge them. Ten thousand Marines, forty heavy cruisers and battleships of the Legion, further two hundred of the Armada Imperialis and over six million troops of the auxilia.

"Finally," he said, his eyes on the hololith representation of the local stars. All data available to the Imperium was transferred long ago and it was lacking. Lacking clarity and details, he tsked in annoyance and then activated his vox. "Shipmaster, take us to the first star."

He heard a brief acknowledgement and then turned to look at the gathered members of his Hetairoi. Only the highest ranking ones were present, the rest of them scattered across the ship. Patrolling the corridors and guarding the main armories.

"This needs to stay in this chamber," Orion said and approached a hololith projector, a datacore in his hand. He slid it into the device and looked at the Hetairoi. "This is the data refined by the Magos from Mars and the Regent's Court."

The projection that appeared was grainy and of low quality, no matter how many Magi and how many cogitators worked to refine it. It showed cruisers disturbingly similar to those of Mars slice through the space, their drives burning bright, brighter than those of Mars.

"A lone frigate of the Armada stayed under stealth and recorded it," Orion said and then looked at his advisors and guards. "Tell me, what do you think about it?"

"A forge-world is out there, probably somewhere in the cluster," one of them said and then shifted in his Mark IV Armour. "One that is powerful and rich enough to afford building a fleet."

"Or an expedition was stranded in the Warp and left it there," another added, making Orion frown as he looked at the projection.

"There is a third possibility," Orion said quietly. "That the Primarch landed on the world and that he united the Mechanicum of it. The Court of the Regent supports this theory and the Emperor himself will join us for the campaign."

Those words unleashed a wave of restrained emotions. They finally had a chance to find their Primarch. Finally become a proper Legion, not one of those few still fighting with no sign and no color.

o-0-o

 **(Anvillus system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

Belisarius looked at the incoming storm of orks with no emotions in his sight. They were a pest to kill and slaughter, a pest that stood on his way. The macrocannons thundered and first wave of shells smashed into the orks.

Many of their small and fragile crafts simply stopped existing, but more pushed on, uncaring of the death of their fellows. Their engines burning brightly and afterburner making the already fast crafts even faster. It was a crude tactic, not one Mechanicum would choose, throwing so many crafts at a cruiser was a waste.

Its batteries and broadside armament would pick them one by one, but for every destroyed dozen there was a hundred lurking in the shadows and for every destroyed hundred there was a thousand on its way.

The tactic was based on the simple principle of throwing enough ships so that the defenses would be unable to kill them fast enough. First two waves were blasted to shreds before they knew they were targeted, but the next waves smashed into the hull. The torpedoes, pods and hundreds of other crafts disgorged their cargo of the greenskins.

Some were mowed down by the point-blank range fire from the defenses of the ship, some didn't pierce the thick adamantium skin, but majority landed inside of the ship. Those were the less lucky ones as the fury of the hundreds of Thallax, battle-automata and Skitarii was unleashed upon them.

Rad, volkite, plasma and phospex weapons all scythed down dozens of orks. Their lethality increased by the tight confines of the gun decks and the pouring streams of orks. What missed one, found its destiny in another. The whole boarding attempts lasted ten minutes, ten minutes of slaughter of orks. Their blood soon covering everything in a thin, filthy layer, their corpses piling high along the outer skin of the hull before being ejected through the gunports.

Belisarius was impressed by the prowess of the guardians of the ship. None of its usual operations were interrupted and none of the Tech-Priests was slain. Some servitors were killed, but they were chaff and new ones were being made constantly.

He then turned to look at the ork kroozers that still were alive, one was untouched, while the second was starting to vent the bodies of its crew and atmosphere. A good thing, an expected thing considering what was its opponent.

"Once they're destroyed, enter the orbit of the planet designated as Alpha," Belisarius said and sent a data burst carrying further information into the noosphere. It contained everything his crew would need, he preferred speech as it annoyed a great many senior Magii, but for precise data transfer nothing was supreme to the binaric cant.

o-0-o

 **(Ares system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

The change was visible on Ares and Ptolemy allowed himself a smile as he looked at the hololith displays. The new shipyards were being assembled in orbit and work on the first sub-orbital plate was starting. He designed it himself, it design based on the hexagon allowed for easy expansion, each edge full of power conduits and pipes, ready to be connected to another platform.

Fabricators-Generals of other forges were reluctant of this, but they relented and agreed to the construction. Sending forth an unending stream of material and workers. As he looked at the sky, first elements of it were visible. The massive plate would soon have over three hundred kilometers at the widest point, but now all it was, was a little more than scaffolding and basic skeleton held in place by impeller plates.

As the constructions in the sky happened, on the planet he wasn't resting. New ore veins were being surveyed, old datacryps were being raided, old and forgotten archives were opened. Forges were being expanded and founded, each day bringing more resources, more goods and more weapons.

Some of them went into storage, ready to be used when needed, but the majority was spent on the construction of new cruisers and destroyers. New shipyards and new forges, as well as redesigning and rebuilding the Magma Prime.

From a first-grade forge it was evolving into a capital of the planet. The most important forge and the seat of the Fabricator-General, a thing that needed to be displayed in its appearance and power.

Its fabrication and manufacturing facilities were expanding, but it wasn't the only change. Work on over a dozen new spires was being started. Each would house workshops of artificiers and Magos Biologis, each would also be a massive beacon for the noosphere. Letting more adepts access it more easily than ever before.

It was also a show of power and might, a thing also very important for Ptolemy. Other Fabricators-Generals only waited for him to make a mistake and slip. With such a monument of his glory and might they should be properly dissuaded.

Of course, they would still plot, wanting to kill him and take over his title or get independent, but those schemes would be merely amusing and much less dangerous with their power greatly diminished.

o-0-o

 **(Unknown system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

The battleships of the _Legiones Astartes_ were the mightiest vessels humanity sent into the space and the most numerous ones too. They scoured the space, their massive weapon batteries putting an end to dozens, if not hundreds of xeno fleets and monstrosities. Scouring planets of life and often preparing the ground for a drop pod assault.

Alas compared to the sheer size and grace and power of _Imperator Somnium_ , the flagship of the Emperor put even them to shame. Theseus stood on the observation deck of _Talon_ as the fleet under personal command of the Emperor left the Warp.

 _Imperator_ was at its core, its massive, golden hull looking more like a city than a ship and making scores of attending cruisers and battleships look like small escort vessels. Where most battleships were limited to half a dozen lance turrets due to size and power limitations, flagship of the Emperor had dozens of them. Each of them mightier and more powerful than even the strongest weapons of battleships.

"That's some arrival," Theseus muttered as _Talon_ started to move towards the flagship. Taking its rightful place close to the core of the massive armada. His eyes darted then towards the void of space beyond _Imperator_ , right as it once again was ripped apart.

A second fleet arrived, it was dwarfed by one that came with the Emperor, but the hulls painted white and a massive battleship leading it was still awe inspiring. It was the Luna Wolves and their Primarch, Horus Lupercal, coming. Their guns blazed in a salute and then they fell into a formation next to _Talon_.

"Legate," Theseus murmured, activating his vox. "Did we ask the Luna Wolves to join us?"

"No," Orion said, in his voice clearly visible surprise. "The dispatches from Terra didn't mention them, nor the bloody armada that came with the Emperor. The fact that a Primarch, our Primarch might be discovered was mentioned, but nothing beyond that."

Theseus chuckled and then looked into the void. "I think, my lord, that the answer to our questions will come from the Emperor." He then shook his head. "He does indeed love to surprise our and arrive in the majesty of the greatest warlord to ever live."

"Quite so," Orion muttered over the vox. "We are invited to come aboard _Imperator_. No guards, just the commanders."

Theseus frowned at this, but then shrugged and nodded. The Emperor was a careful man that also loved to boast, a thing that oft had an interesting outcome. However he also understood that each commander needs some guards, some confidants. Some person they could trust that would give them an honest advice.

Theseus frowned and his brows furrowed, making the tattoo of the aquila on his forehead move and change. This summon was a strange one, he could very easily find some reasons for it, but it still felt weird.

He turned and looked at the pair of thralls that were in the chamber. Their lives sworn to the Legion. "Prepare my armor and gear," he curtly said and then paused before adding. "And prepare the cape I'm entitled to."

Twenty minutes later he stepped out of his chamber, his plain armor polished to perfection and a flaming red cape held with a fist-shaped pin, at his shoulder, flowing down his back. That pin was a badge of honor, awarded to him personally by Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists for the actions during one of the campaigns when Eleventh aided the Fists.

o-0-o

 _Imperator_ was a gargantuan ship with whole decks dedicated to labs, forges, recycling centers, processing of raw resources and storage. Above all of them were the decks where the bulk of the crew lived and worked, and finally above them, in the dozens of the spires, domes and other structures jutting out of the main hull were the quarters of the Legio Custodes, the Emperor and his sons.

The doors hissed, opening as Horus Lupercal stepped through them and entered the observation deck where a dozen of Custodians stood guard. Their forms armored in golden armor didn't show a single emotion as he passed between them, his gargantuan, armored bulk, towering even over them.

"Father," he said softly, his head bowing in reverence as he approached the man, the being standing in front of a massive viewport. "You summoned me and I have arrived."

The Emperor turned and looked at his first and most favored son. "Horus," he said softly. "Another of your brothers was discovered by me. However, before we can be reunited with him, there is a minor obstacle in the way."

"The orks," Horus stated and the Emperor nodded. "The Luna Wolves are ready, give us an order and we will strike them down."

"You will do that in time," the Emperor said cautiously. "However this is not a time for this. There are few scores of human worlds in the cluster that still stand tall and withstand the savagery of the orks. You will take your Legion and secure them. Bringing them into the Imperium and removing the orks from each system."

"Father, you won't fight alongside me during this campaign?"

"No, my son. Finding your brother and meeting with him is far more important than the campaign to remove this tribe of orks. The anomalies the Eleventh checked, proved to be what I was expecting and your brother did quite a magnificent thing on his world. He will be a lot like Ferrus and Vulcan, maybe even like Roboute. The world on which he crashed is a forge-world, one of the first settled by the expeditions from Mars."

"He is a Mechanicum?"

"That I cannot tell. His future is covered in mysteries and what I see is full of good omens as his rediscovery will strenghten the Imperium…"

o-0-o

Theseus followed Orion and other officers of the Eleventh into the strategium of _Imperator_ and the moment he passed through the gilded doors he felt an urge to kneel before the majesty of the Emperor. The Master of Mankind stood at the far end of the massive chamber, quietly talking with the Captain-General, Constantine Valdor and the Primarch of the Luna Wolves, Horus Lupercal himself.

"Something is up," Theseus murmured as he looked at the crowd of the Luna Wolves officers. "All of their senior Captains are here."

"Aye," Orion nodded and then paused. "More telling is the presence of the Primarch. And Valdor."

Theseus nodded and took a goblet from a passing serf. "I have a nagging feeling that we might be close to discovering our gene-sire."

Orion smiled and joined the fellow Legates that stood much closer to the Emperor who finally noticed their arrival and turned to face them. "Today is a great day for the Imperium! I have discovered the location where another of my sons landed and in twenty-four hours we will travel to recover him. The Eleventh Legion, this is an illustrious moment for you as your gene-sire is the one I have found. Your fleet will accompany me to his homeworld and meet him, while Horus and Captain-General will lead separate armadas that will strike down the orks plaguing the sector."

A roar of happiness tore itself free out of the throats of the gather officers of the Eleventh Legion, their stoic and aloof attitude replaced by joy and happiness felt at the fact that finally they would have a gene-sire. The Primarch that would lead them and shape them into a force to be reckoned with.

o-0-o

 **(Ares system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

A massive form hung in the cold void above the planet of Ares, its flanks were studded with dozens of guns emplacements, sensor cupolas and docking bays. It was the biggest project so far done by the rapidly expanding shipyards of the planet. It was named _Argentum_ and it was the first of the Arc Mechanicum vessels constructed on this forge-world.

Ptolemy guided his gunship with his thoughts and gazed at the massive ship. It was close to thirty kilometers long, much bigger than the ships they discovered in the long forgotten blueprints discovered in one of the data vaults. However he knew that this would put those older designs to shame, it's batteries able to reduce any planet and fleet to slag and twisted wreckage.

Its forges were the size of a large forge located on the planet and could churn out an endless stream of weapons, equipment and battle-automata, while its labs allowed testing of new weapons and designs. Allowing the Tech-Priests to carry out all of their sacred duties when away from their forge-world and at the same time protecting them from any harm.

Its meters thick, composite armored skin was capable of surviving hits that would punch through a lesser ship and the void shields banks had the power comparable to those found on planets and almost nothing could damage them. Only a prolonged duel with overwhelming force could damage the ship in a way that would force it to be towed to a dry dock.

In all fairness it was a massive forge and city in space, not a ship. It even had its dedicated Titan maniplws ready to defend their home and ready to aid Skitarii during exploration of some hostile planet.

Ptolemy smiled and brought his gunship to a docking bay close to ship's bridge. His cybernetic augments allowing him to guide the nimble craft with a grace that put to shame the best human pilots. He effortlessly slipped into the bay and the moment the blast door lowered and the atmosphere outside was breathable he stepped out.

It was time to take to stars and see the unexpected ork guests chased away and destroyed. The nearby worlds would soon fall into the control of the Mechanicum and their output would be added to the furnace of the forge-world. Many would be also turned into new forges, producing goods and weapons necessary to fuel the expansion and extermination of orks.

o-0-o

 **(Anvillus system, unknown date, eighth century M30)**

 _Ferrum_ shook as its void shields were under assault by the last ork kroozer. But then the batteries of the cruiser opened fire and reduced its enemy to a broken wreck. Full broadside of plasma macrocannons simply obliterated the ship, blasting away large chunks of its hull and scattering the rest across the vastness of space.

"Start deploying the probes," Belisarius said as he regarded the wreckage with cold, calculating gaze. "Once that's done, I want the Skitarii and Thallax to deal with the ork infestation of the system."

Tech-Priests nodded and went to carry out orders. Right as the Warp was torn open and hundreds of vessels appeared in system. Belisarius was about to order retreat when the sensors identified many of them as those of Martian design.

"Establish communication and send a message to Ares."


End file.
